The Old Man
by donutsweeper
Summary: After years apart the Doctor finds Jack broken in both body and in spirit, can he help his old friend? Will Jack let him? Final chapter up.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Old Man**

**Summary: **After years apart the Doctor finds Jack broken in both body and in spirit, can he help his old friend? Will Jack let him?

* * *

It was a crumbling village on a backwater planet in a dark corner of the universe that few cared to visit. It was not the sort of place the Doctor had expected the TARDIS to take him, and certainly not the place he expected to see a familiar face, especially this familiar face.

But then again, while he recognized the face he couldn't say the same for the person behind it. He had known the con man. The flirt. The leader. The fighter. The hero. The friend. The man huddled in the corner was none of those things. There was no fire in this man's belly, no twinkle in his eyes, no devil-may-care attitude about him. This was a broken shell of a man. This man had retreated so far into himself that he barely blinked. Physically, he hadn't aged a day, but in every way that mattered this man bore no semblance to the man he once called friend.

The Doctor watched, horrified, as the bar maid ran over and knelt down next to the rumpled heap, trying to get him to focus on her. "Now what made you think you could slip in here and not tell me?" she chastised. Then, she called over her shoulder, "Da, how long's the Old Man been out here?"

"He only just came in." A voice from the back room yelled back. "I'm getting some bread for him now."

She sat, holding his head in her hands, her thumb stroking his chin as she tried to get his attention. "Come on .Old Man, look at me. You can do it. It's Nell. You're done working for the day. It's over. You're in the tavern. Listen to my voice. Da and I are here with you. You're safe." She was rewarded with a weary blink, a sigh, and a dazed half-smile. "Oh, that's good. Come on, come back to us."

A man, obviously Nell's father, limped out from the back room. "Here you go lass." He passed her some bread. "Maybe we can get some of this into him."

She ripped off a small piece of the crust and rubbed it against her friend's lips until his mouth opened. "There now, don't try to chew yet, just suck on it for a bit." She kept stroking his chin until he closed his mouth. "Magiot must have double dosed you again. One of these days I'm going to kill that bastard." Feeling the Doctor's eyes on her she turned quickly. "What do you want?"

"You are very gentle with him."

"Yeah, so? What's it to you?"

"Nell," her father warned. He placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "Mind your manners now. This isn't Magiot or one of his goons." He creakily got to his feet, taking a step towards the Doctor. "Old Man here is our friend, would you do no less for one of your friends?"

The unintended irony of that statement made him wince. "Why do you call him 'Old Man'? He looks barely older than your daughter."

"What else would you call a man you've known your whole life? Besides, we haven't got any other name to call him. I think he had a farm and a family up in the hills years back before I was born, but then the plague wiped out half the planet and by the time he moved into town he was all by himself. Never told anyone his name."

He paused to watch his daughter. Nell was ignoring the conversation, focusing on her friend, murmuring; "That's good, you're doing great. How about another piece? Can you do that for me?" She was trying to get him to focus and eat, but it wasn't easy.

"He wasn't always like this." He continued, shaking his head sadly. "If you'd known him when I was a lad... but times got rough and well... Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to survive."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Drugs. Blissfire. Been on it for years and years. It keeps him under Magiot's thumb, and well, he probably couldn't do what he has to every night without it."

"He's addicted?" The Doctor couldn't quite keep the horror out of his voice.

Nell interrupted, practically shouting. "It's not his fault! How dare you judge him? You have no idea who he is or what's he's done or had to go through!"

"No, you're right. I'm so sorry. I thought maybe I could help. We haven't been properly introduced, I'm the Doctor."

"A doctor? Here? I'm Gunther; this is my daughter Nell. Would you..." He gestured at the Old Man. "Do you think you could help? I'm afraid we can't offer you much as payment..."

"Oh no, no, no. Let's just take a look." The Doctor knelt down next to Nell to begin his examination. There was no doubt this was his old friend, the man he had known as Jack Harkness all those years ago. The same dark hair, the same piercing blue eyes. There had been a time he knew every inch of this man's body. The body was the same, albeit battered and bruised, but the spirit was gone. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began a scan.

"What's that?" Nell asked quietly.

"A sonic screwdriver; I'm reading his vitals."

"Oh."

The Doctor sighed, remembering.

_Who has a sonic screwdriver? _ _Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks "Ooh, this could be a little more sonic"?_

"Tell me about blissfire." He didn't like what the scans were showing. Jack was severely malnourished, dehydrated, his electrolytes were out of balance... basically everything and anything that could go wrong in his body had done so. The baggy clothing was hiding a multitude of cuts and bruises, some half healed and others oozing fresh blood.

Gunther shrugged. "It makes you feel good, but numb, all at the same time. You can't think straight, like your mind's jumping all over the place. It gives you energy so you feel like you don't need to eat or sleep... I'm not explaining this well." He shook his head. "We never took it, he made us promise. He didn't want us ruining our lives with it."

"Probably for the best, drugs like that are quite damaging to the body's chemistry and could very well be nearly instantly addictive. As far as you know, has he ever tried to stop taking..." The Doctor trailed off, noticing the pale blue eyes that were focused on him. "Hullo there. Can you hear me?"

Nell smiled, warmly. "Hey Old Man, it's nice to see those baby blues again. Look, we found a doctor for you. A doctor! How about that?"

"D..d...d..doc...tor?" A shaking hand tentatively reached out.

"That's right, a real doctor. And he's going to help you."

"R..r..re..real?"

Was he merely mimicking Nell, or did he truly understand what he was saying? The Doctor grabbed the weak hand. "I'm real. Feel this?" He pressed the trembling fingers against his cheek. Jack's gaze shifted from him to Nell and back again.

"N..Nell? He.. He's real?"

"As real as you and me!." She kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Glad you're with us again, Old Man. Now say hello to the nice doctor and let him have a look at you."

"Hello, Doctor." His voice was so weak and hesitant it nearly broke the Doctor's hearts to hear it. There was no warmth, no spirit, nothing whatsoever behind it. There was none of that bravado that had been his signature.

_I was just saying hello!_ _For you, that's flirting._

"Okay, I need to ask you some questions. Is that all right?" The Doctor peered into Jack's eyes, they were still glassy, but focused and perhaps a bit more alert. "Can you tell me your name?"

"They, they..." He gestured at Gunther and Nell. "They call me Old Man."

"Why is that?"

"'Cause I'm old." He shuddered briefly as pain wracked through his body, instinctively grabbing the Doctor's arm tightly. "Sss..so old. Older than you."

Did Jack really know what he was saying? He had to get the others away so he could find out. "Nell, he's dehydrated, can you get him a glass of water? And Gunther, maybe something for him to eat? More bread, or something more nutritious?"

"Some soup?" Gunther asked, pausing in front of the bar.

"Excellent, that would be wonderful for him."

"You be good for the Doctor, Old Man." Nell stroked his cheek before rising. "He'll make you all better."

The Doctor watched her walk away. "Do you... recognize me?" He whispered as soon as she was out of earshot. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, but, but... you don't know me. The man you knew is d..dead... J..J..Jack was a hero... Died so many times... I'm the Old M...m...man now... The Old Man needs blissfire to face the day... The Old Man is a c...coward.."

_Wish I'd never met you, Doctor... I was much better off as a coward... See you in hell._

Oh Jack... "Let's get you up," the Doctor said, reaching under Jack's armpits to haul him to his feet when suddenly Jack went pale and cried out in pain.

"What happened?" Nell yelled, dropping the glass of water she'd been carrying and running over.

"I thought he should get off the floor." The Doctor started to explain. "I was just helping him to his feet when..." His voice trailed off, startled by the way Jack was panting and wheezing.

"You idiot!" She brushed the Doctor away. "Old Man? Damn it, what did Magiot's goons do to you this time?" She stroked his hair gently. "You know you don't have to work there. Not anymore. You don't have to put yourself through that."

"Yes, I do." He hissed, his teeth clamped shut. "Y..you know why." He took a deep breath and then slowly let it go. "Help m..me up. I w..wasn't expecting it before. 'M ready now. It's okay."

Carefully, with Nell's help, the Doctor got Jack onto his feet. Jack swayed slightly, but refused to lean on either of them. "I can d...do it. I'm not a child."

"No," Gunther chastised as he came out of the kitchen. "But you do act like one sometimes." He held a bowl filled with a thick broth. "Made your favorite. The doctor said you should eat."

Jack gave the Doctor a long, deep look before limping behind the bar and through the door behind it. He leaned on the wall for balance as he made his way down the narrow corridor. "W..welcome to my humble a..b..b..bode, Doc...tor." He said, pushing open a door.

It wasn't a home, it wasn't even a bedroom. It was a tiny storage closet with a pile of bedding on the floor. Nell slipped into the room and spread it out on the floor. The Doctor stepped forward, but whatever he was going to say died on his lips when Jack glared at him. Nell stayed only long enough to help as Jack leaned on her and slowly sank against the wall. Gunther bent down and handed him the bowl and produced a spoon from the pocket of his apron.

"Now you eat all of this, Old Man." He waggled the spoon in Jack's face. "You hear me? I'll send Nell in to check and you know what she gets like when she's angry!"

Jack laughed weakly. "I'll try." His hands shook terribly as he began to eat, very little of the broth staying on the spoon by the time he actually got it to his mouth.

"Let's leave him to eat in peace." Gunther suggested, picking up on his friend's embarrassment.

The Doctor stayed in the doorway for a moment, reluctantly following the others only when he realized that Jack wouldn't continue to eat under their prying eyes. "I'll just be out front," he said quietly. "We'll talk later."

He joined the others, sitting by the bar. "What can you tell me about your friend? I need to know everything; the more of the patient's history I have the better I'll be able to treat him." It was an invasion of privacy on his part, but he knew Jack would never answer any of his questions and the truth couldn't possibly be worse than his suppositions, or so he hoped.

The story came out in dribs and drabs, interrupted frequently as Gunther and Nell took care of the tavern's patrons. They explained that the Old Man first came to town about a decade after the plague had hit. Apparently, he'd spent all that time alone in the hills after his family died. He was quiet and kept to himself, almost like he didn't know how to be around people anymore. Eventually he started working at the tavern, run by Gunther's father at the time, in exchange for room and board. Slowly but surely, as the years passed, he became almost a part of the family. "You should have seen him then. Still real quiet, but he'd smile some times... He had a brilliant smile. And there was this laugh of his," Gunther smiled wistfully, remembering it. "It was rare to hear it but if you did, you couldn't help but join on in and laugh with him. A young lad like myself couldn't have asked for a better friend growing up."

"Was he called Old Man even back then?" The Doctor asked.

"Yes, it was my Mam who gave him that name. She always said his eyes were so old, like they'd seen more pain and suffering then anyone should ever have, and it turned him old before his time." Gunther shook his head sadly. "I'm kind of glad she never saw him like this. Would've broke her heart."

"What happened?"

"The plague. It came back, even worse than before. So many died. Mam and Da.; my wife, that'd be Nell's mam, as well. Nell was just a little lass back then- we thought the plague'd take her too, she got so sick. Old Man ran the whole tavern by himself so I could take care of her, but we couldn't keep up with the payments. That's when Magiot stepped in, offered the Old Man a deal. I said to forget it, that the tavern wasn't worth it. I told him... I tried... I told him to leave, that I'd figure out something else, anything else. But the Old Man wouldn't listen to me. He was always a stubborn one, he said, 'You're my friend and I couldn't live with myself if I abandoned my friends. Please don't ask me to. I'm doing this for you two, whether you like it or not.' That was probably the most he'd ever said to me in my entire life. I hated it, but I accepted it."

_You abandoned me. Did I? Busy life. _

"What was the deal?"

Gunther shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "I was dead set against it, you have to understand that. But he told me it was a done deal. The papers had been drawn up and he'd snuck out the night before to make his mark on them."

"Gunther..."

"He signed a contract with Magiot. He agreed to work for him for five years in return for Magiot tearing up the lien on the tavern."

"What sort of contract?" The Doctor was getting exasperated, trying to drag the truth out.

Nell stepped up and whispered. "Magiot runs, well, it's basically a brothel, but the clients... ummm... they like men, not women and... Well... lets just say most of Magiot's 'employees' don't last long enough to have to worry about what they'd do when the contract was up." Neither Nell or Gunther could look the Doctor in the eyes after that revelation.

"When did he start taking the blissfire?"

"Old Man tried not to." Nell explained. "He tried so hard to just do the work and stay clean. But... what they did to him, what was done to him. He was in so much pain that he couldn't eat or sleep. Then he got hurt so bad he couldn't work. Magiot said he was in breech of the contract, that he'd failed us and we'd lose the tavern because of it." She started crying. "That first time, when he came back, he was smiling, I hadn't seen him smile in such a long time... but there was no warmth behind it. And his eyes were empty. Sometimes, I try to remember his eyes when they still have life to them, but I can't."

"But you said five years, that the contract was only for five years. It must have been up ages ago."

"He works for the blissfire now." Gunther said, as he walked around the bar to put a comforting arm around his daughter's shoulder. "He can't...Don't get me wrong, he's tried. He has tried. But now the Old Man can't even face the day without it now. And Magiot's always eager to dose him, as many times as needed so he'll still work. Apparently... well... Old Man's very popular with the clientele there."

They were all silent for a moment. "I think I can help him, I'd like to try anyway." The Doctor nervously ran his hand through his hair. "If it's all right?" He gestured at the hall.

"Oh go ahead, he probably ate as much as he was going to by now. Although he might be asleep already." Nell saw the look the Doctor gave her. "He wants to sleep in there. We've offered him one of the rooms upstairs time and time again, but he won't sleep anywhere but there." She shrugged. "He likes it there. He says it feels safe."

However, once the Doctor got down the hall he hesitated, unsure of his welcome. Was there any of Jack, his Jack, left in the Old Man? Could he find it if there was? What would he do if there wasn't? He knocked lightly.

"I ate as m..m..much as I c..c.ould, Nell. Lemme sleep."

The Doctor opened the door a crack. "It's not Nell. It's me. I just... I could... I don't want to disturb you."

"You came back." The surprise in the voice was evident, and heartbreaking.

"I told you I would." The Doctor walked in to the tiny room and sat down next to Jack, leaning against the wall. He figured it be easier for them to talk if they didn't have to look face-to-face.

"Yeah, but..." He felt Jack shrug. "I figured, once Gunther and Nell t..t..told you what I d..do..."

"I didn't leave when you were a defrocked Captain whose failed con almost destroyed humanity, I'm not going to leave you now."

_Actually, I quit. Nobody takes my frock._

"You, you'd stay?"

"The TARDIS is hidden in the hills. We'll get you to her medical bay, get the drugs out of your system and get you all healed up."

"Thought she did... didn't like me. Fixed p..p..point and all that."

"She's the one who brought me here. We both want you back, Old Man. We want you whole."

The silence that followed was eventually broken by the slight sounds of hitched breathing as Jack's emotions began to overwhelm him. The Doctor reached over and placed his arm around Jack, turning so he held Jack against his chest as he waited for Jack to realize that the time had come to move away from the pain and darkness into the light.

It should have been easy to get Jack to accept the offered help, but it wasn't. It was only after hours of broken conversations that the Doctor realized why; his friend was afraid. Afraid that Magiot might come after Gunther and Nell. Afraid that the TARDIS would react against him. Afraid of being a disappointment. Afraid of failing. Afraid of having his hopes built up only to have them dashed again.

That was when the Doctor finally had enough. He took Jack's face in his hands. "Look at me. Jack, eyes on me. Now. We're getting you off the blissfire and all healed up and then we'll head into the vortex, to live and love and laugh together." He pulled Jack closer and kissed him, long and deep. "You are so much bigger on the inside, bigger than I ever thought possible. Don't you ever forget that."

Jack started to say something, but the Doctor held up his hand. "Before you say anything, can we get off the floor now? I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my life; my legs are going numb." He hid a smile when he heard Jack's soft laugh. "No really, I'm serious here. My arse has fallen asleep. Hey, it's not funny! Stop laughing at me!" But his protests were for naught as he began laughing too.

Eventually the Doctor did manage to convince Jack to come with him; although it involved several promises on his part. One promise was that they'd return so Jack could say a proper goodbye to Gunther and Nell once he was better. The second was that they'd track down a new RAF greatcoat for Jack to wear. The Third promised a visit to the weapon's factories at Villengard for a replacement squareness gun. The fourth was a re-enactment of their night in fourteenth century Japan. And the fifth...


	2. Facing Truths

Jack had insisted they stop at Magiot's 'establishment' before leaving town, to tell him in person that his, or more precisely, Old Man's days for working there were over. The Doctor hadn't thought it was a good idea, but Jack was not to be swayed on the matter. They walked together to the rear entrance, and upon finding the proprietor, a beefy unkempt man, Jack looked him straight in the eye and said succinctly, "I quit."

The response was not one either the Doctor or Jack had expected. Magiot simply laughed, a humorless and cruel laugh. "You'll be back. I'll leave your name on the rota." Then he turned and walked away, his laughter echoing through the hall, mocking them.

Jack crumbled, just fell apart. Hours of quiet conversation, all that encouragement and support and a mere ten words had shattered his carefully rebuilt confidence completely. "He's right." The empty, defeated tone was back in his voice. "I always failed b...b..before."

"This time is different."

The broken and empty eyes stayed staring at the floor. "Why?"

"I wasn't here before," the Doctor replied, but the only acknowledgment was a disheartened shrug.

Jack started to limp dejectedly back to the tavern when the Doctor caught his arm. Not believing for a moment the other man was actually heading in the wrong direction by accident he gently chided. "Wrong way Captain, the TARDIS is over there," and gestured to the hills outside of town. "Come on."

The walk to the TARDIS was not an easy one. Jack's limp grew more and more pronounced, and, more worryingly, he had withdrawn into himself almost completely. The Doctor kept a light banter going the entire way, wisely making no mention of the hisses of pain from his companion. He didn't even pause in his description of the women of Rylos Seven when, after Jack's knees almost gave out, he surreptitiously guided Jack's left arm over his shoulders and slid his right arm around Jack's bony waist, practically taking on his full weight.

The TARDIS was only a meter or two away when Jack came to an abrupt halt. "I c..c..can't do this Doctor."

"Course you can, only a little bit further."

"Th..that's not what I m..m..meant."

The Doctor sighed. "I know, Jack. I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "But you have to realize I am not going anywhere. I ran away from you once. I won't do that to you again."

"S.s.s.sure you will. Eventually."

"Jaaack. Trust me, please." But what else could he really say? Jack was judging him on his past actions and they left quite a lot to be desired. After all, he was the one who left Jack on the abandoned Game Station surrounded by Dalek dust. He'd realized what Rose had done and run off to avoid the consequences, and never even looked back. There was nothing he could do about that now. First things first, get Jack off the blissfire. Once he was off the drugs and physically back up to snuff he could try to undo some of the psychological damage he'd done.

Jack might not have wanted to approach the TARDIS, but the Doctor gave him no choice in the matter. It was a blatant sign of how weak Jack truly was, because as the Doctor started walking again, Jack was half-carried along as well. Realizing this lack of control was tough on his friend the Doctor jokingly made a grab for the small bundle Jack held clutched against his chest. "Still have your key for her?"

"No." No explanation. No apologizing. Just a simple negative statement which left so much unsaid. Jack no longer had his TARDIS key. Was it not needed, not wanted, too painful a reminder or merely not important enough to have been kept all this time? And if Jack no longer cared to keep a link to the TARDIS, what did that imply about his feelings to those who traveled in her?

"Oh, well, that's all right . . . I've got mine." He opened the door, but realized Jack was still reluctant to enter. "She wants you here, Jack. Really she does. She would never have brought me here to find you otherwise." Either that finally convinced Jack, or he was just far too exhausted to argue, because he hobbled in, letting the Doctor lead him to the medical bay.

"Right, let's get a proper scan." the Doctor said, as he guided Jack to the examination table. "Off with that shirt." But Jack didn't move; he didn't say anything, which surprised the Doctor. The Jack Harkness he had known oozed sexuality and flirtation from every pore. That man would strip the second the opportunity, any opportunity, presented itself, if not before. It had been such an annoyance, a hindrance, something that frustrated him to no end. He hadn't thought it was possible that he would be missing that trait in his old friend.

He reached over to undo the buttons himself and was startled to see Jack flinch. It was such a slight movement; he almost didn't even register it. Nell's words came back to him, unbidden, "What they did to him, what was done to him. He was in so much pain." It was an unpleasant reminder that they never had given him an answer as to how long Jack had worked for Magiot, or other than the drugs, what kind of damage had been done to him there.

"Jack, why don't you put your things down on the counter?" He waited while Jack went through an internal debate, but eventually released his small satchel. It was a little unnerving, after who knows how many hundreds of years of living, all Jack had to show for it was a spare shirt, a small wooden box and a few other mementoes. "Excellent. Now would you please remove your shirt for me? It would make it easier for the TARDIS to scan you properly."

"M..mm.m.maybe w.w.w.we could d.d..do this l..later? P..please?" Jack's stuttering had increased significantly and it was due to more than the influence of the blissfire. Jack appeared to be, well, terrified was the only word for it. Jack. This was Jack Harkness, the man who had thought nothing of facing a Dalek fleet with only a handful of people fighting at his side. The man who had sacrificed himself to a madman to let Martha escape. What was he so scared of? What was he trying to hide?

"You know we can't. We have to see how you're dealing with the withdrawal. And I know there's some cuts and bruising. You'll feel better once we get that cleaned up." He reached out again. "Let the TARDIS get a good look at you, the more she knows the better a job she'll be able to do treating you." He took Jack's small sigh as token acceptance and began to undo the shirt buttons.

He'd done some scans that morning with the sonic screwdriver, so he thought he knew what to expect. He was wrong. So wrong. What he saw when he finally removed Jack's shirt nearly broke his hearts. Jack was horribly thin. He could see each and every one of his ribs and all the bones in his spine; there was no fat and practically no muscle. The man was just skin and bones. And then there were the wounds: whip marks, teeth marks, slashes, gashes, scratches, cuts, abrasions, burns, welts . . . he couldn't even begin to count or catalogue them all. And what made it even more disturbing, if such a thing was even possible, was how recently it had all been inflicted upon him. Only a few had healed enough to begin to scab over and turn into scars, which meant all that damage had been done within the past week or two.

"Jack, what . . ." Where to even begin . . . And what sorts of other injuries were still being hidden by the trousers? Based on the nature of Jack's work, and what Nell and Gunther had said, most likely the Doctor hadn't even seen the worst of the injuries yet. "I need a complete scan, Jack." His horror at what he saw was making his voice harsher than intended. "Take everything off and lie down." Jack complied, a blush of embarrassment creeping over his face; he didn't attempt to argue but just lay down, staring straight up at the ceiling, refusing to even acknowledge the Doctor.

The Doctor didn't even need to look at the scans to see that it was so much worse than he had expected. Worse than he had ever thought possible. How had Jack lived like this, day in and day out for all those years? It was no wonder he'd eventually turned to drugs to be able to make it through the day. What could he say that would not just make matters worse? How could he convince his friend that a coward would never have survived this kind of treatment? That he was still the hero he had always been, and always would be?

Eventually, he found his voice again. "Right. Let's get you cleaned up." He reached over and grabbed a bowl and washcloth. "Roll over onto your stomach for me please. Don't worry; it won't sting." He'd made sure the cloth was treated with antibiotics and painkillers, there was no way he was going to cause Jack any more pain if he could avoid it. Gently, ever so gently, he washed his friend, cleaning away the filth and blood. Jack didn't quite relax as the Doctor worked, but eventually he did stop flinching at every touch.

When the injuries that could be treated or bandaged were taken care of the Doctor grabbed some clean clothes from the wardrobe room and helped Jack into them before settling him in a comfortable chair in the corner. "Feeling a bit peckish perhaps? You are quite a bit underweight, a little meat on those bones would do wonders . . ." He trailed off when he noticed Jack shaking his head. "What?"

"No p...point in eating," Jack said, holding up his hand to show the tremors. "Blissfire withdrawal. It's all.. already starting. B..b.be throwing up s..s..soon."

"Right, you know what to expect. Gunther told me you've tried to quit using before."

Jack nodded quickly, staring at his hands. "Lots of t.t.t...times. Wa...wasn't strong enough."

"You can do this." The Doctor reached out to stroke Jack's jaw, but pulled his hand away when he saw the flash of fear and self loathing in Jack's eyes.

"Last time I convulsed so mmmuch my heart couldn't take it. Nell f.f.found me. S...s...scared her so b..b..bad when I came b..b.back to life." He paused, fists balling up in memory. "All healed up . . . b..b.but still addicted."

"How often . . . Jack, I couldn't help but notice . . . I mean, with those injuries . . . it's just that none of them are that old. I know it's not . . . if you don't want to . . ." The words ran over themselves as they raced off his tongue.

"S..spit it out, Doctor." Jack glared at him, as if he were daring the Doctor to voice his query.

The Doctor nervously ran his hands through his hair. It was a simple question, but he didn't want to know the answer. He really didn't want to know. He needed to know, but some truths were just too painful to face. Taking a deep breath he finally asked. "How many times have you died while working for Magiot?"

Jack shook his head. "No idea."

"How often then?"

"D..d..depends on the clientele." There was a cold acceptance in the way he recited the facts. "C. of times a m..m..month... or a couple of times a n..n..night." He shrugged.

"Oh, Jack . . ." But he trailed off. There was just something wrong, so wrong, about the tone of Jack's voice. Everything was presented as if it were just a matter of fact, like somehow he'd been deserving of the horrors this life had thrust upon him. The man had been injured badly enough to die hundreds, if not thousands, of times yet failed to see it as anything more than his fate. The Doctor was not a man to be at a loss for words, but here was a time he simply had no idea what to say.

They sat in silence as Jack's trembling worsened until he suddenly grimaced and flew to his feet. He barely reached the basin before he began vomiting. The Doctor rested his hand on Jack's neck, as a sign of support, as the vomiting became wave after wave of dry heaves. When they finally stopped, Jack sank to the floor, like a marionette whose strings had snapped.

"I c..c..can't do t..t.this." He was sweating and shivering.

"Yes, you can." The Doctor replied, steely determination in his voice. He stood up and rifled through the medical bay cabinets. "We can treat some of the withdrawal symptoms with medication. There's no need for you to suffer like this. Hmmm. No. No. No . . ." Vials and pills and syringes went flying. "Aha!" He spun around and slapped a patch onto Jack's neck. "Here, this should help with the nausea. And let's see . . ." He began rummaging again.

"No."

"Sorry? No, what?"

"I'm not r..replacing one drug with another." Jack fingered the patch, trying to pull it off.

"Stop that." The Doctor swatted Jack's hand away. "Once your body is through the withdrawal, you won't need it anymore, but until then you are leaving it on. And you are taking whatever else I say you should." It wasn't until he saw the slight cringe that he realized how harsh he must have sounded to the other man.

"Jack. I'm sorry. I'm not good at this." He gestured at the mess he'd created in the medical bay and then at Jack, still slumped by the basin. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for not finding for you earlier. I'm mad that you were in that place, forced to do what you did, and I didn't know. I can't believe I let you slip so far away from me." He settled down on the floor next to Jack. "Remember that time you laughed when I said you were my responsibility? In the year 100 trillion? I meant it. I'd run from it, from you, for so long. I don't do responsible very well." He ignored Jack's snort in response. "Let me try to make up for it now. Please?"

For a terrible moment the Doctor thought Jack had changed his mind about accepting his help, but then there was the slightest shrug of acquiescence.

"Right then, first things first. Let's get off this cold floor." He started to get Jack up but saw how his friend stiffened when they approached one of the beds. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe there was a reason that Jack's 'humble abode' had been some bedding in a storage closet. Nell had told him of the turned down offers for a proper room but he hadn't thought to question why. And now was not the time to get into it. "Wait, trying to wash these mattresses is a nightmare and even with the meds you'll still be sweating and bleeding and making a mess. Would you mind if we just piled a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor?" He felt the tension bleed out of the other man. "Just a sec . . ." Opening cabinet after cabinet the Doctor pulled out blankets and sheets and pillows and threw them onto the floor.

Jack, very gingerly, lay down on top of one of thinner blankets and curled into a ball, his back against the wall. It was all the Doctor could do not to scream. "Grab a pillow! Lie on something softer! You deserve better than this!" But he said nothing, only grabbed two of the medication patches and a few pillows for himself before sitting down next to his friend.

"This one will help with the pain." He lifted up Jack's sleeve to find an uninjured spot and pressed it on. "And this one, infection . . ." But there was no other place to put the patch on that arm. Jack eyed the Doctor, as if daring him to comment, before pulling down the collar of his shirt past the teeth marks to an unblemished swatch of skin under his clavicle.

"Better?" The Doctor asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Jack nodded, as he pulled himself tighter into a ball. Tremors still ran through him and the sweating and shivering hadn't ceased. "Some."

The Doctor scooted over until he was right next to Jack and, in one deft movement, lifted Jack's head up and slipped his leg under so Jack was forced to use his thigh as a pillow. Then, reaching over, he grabbed a blanket and spread it over Jack. "No need for you to catch pneumonia now, is there?"

Even with the medication he had provided the Doctor could tell Jack was having a hard time with the withdrawal. He could hear the uneven breathing and the occasional moan, feel the shivers and tremors and see the sweat pouring from his body. He was desperate to help, but unsure where to begin; perhaps getting his mind off of it all was the key, find something, anything, to talk about.

"So . . . Jack . . . Why did you let Nell and Gunther call you 'Old Man?' Why didn't you tell them your real name?"

Jack pushed himself up on his arms to stare at the Doctor. "W..w..why not? It fit. I'm old. I'm a mm..man."

"But, I don't understand," the Doctor began, his frustration getting the better of him. "You have a name, why didn't you use it?"

Jack scrabbled onto his feet, his face filled with fury. "Like you use yours? R..r.right, 'Doctor?' Why don't you ever u..use your real name? Or mine? Or are you too b..b..blind to realize that C..Cap..Capt'n..." Suddenly, as quickly as it started, the shouting was over. Jack stiffened, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed into a fit of convulsions.

"Oh damn it!" The Doctor shouted, running to Jack's side. He felt for a pulse, and was glad to find one, but didn't like the way it was racing erratically, the heartbeats too fast for him to even count. "Hold on, Jack! Just hold on!" He began rummaging through the medicine chest. "I have anti-convulsives . . ." Medicines went flying everywhere. "They're here . . . somewhere . . . I just need . . ." There was a strange half-choking gargle noise from the floor and Jack went very still. "Jack?" Hesitantly, the Doctor approached his friend, but he didn't need the TARDIS's scanners to know that Jack was dead. "No, no, no, no, no!" He gathered Jack in his arms. "You weren't supposed to have to go through this again. I was supposed to help you."

Time seemed to stop as they stayed there; Jack, lying in the Doctor's arms, getting colder and colder while the Doctor rocked back and forth, crying at the injustice of it all. "Jack? Come back, Jack." The Doctor hesitantly pleaded, over and over. "Please, Jack." He hugged Jack tighter. In all the time he had known Jack he'd seen him die many times. He'd always come back to life within minutes. He didn't realize he was mimicking what Nell had said earlier that day. "Come on Jack, come back to me."

It was only as he was gentlyspreading a blanket over the two of them that he noticed that Jack had healed. There was no longer any physical evidence of his abuse. "I suppose there's something to be said for dying after all, eh Jack?" he whispered, with a lightness he didn't feel as he brushed Jack's hair off his face and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

This time Jack didn't come back to life with the gasp the Doctor had expected, it was more of a weary sigh. But whatever it was, it sounded beautiful. "Jack?" he called, softly.

Jack shifted slightly within the Doctor's arms. "Doc?" His eyes fluttered. "What . . ." he started to ask what happened, but realization rushed in. "Oh. Oh god. I didn't mean to s..scare you like that."

"Jack, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing."

Jack started to sit up, to pull himself out of the Doctor's grasp, but the Doctor held him tight. "Doctor?" he asked, obviously confused.

"You're not getting away from me, not again."

"But, I . . ."

"No buts. The TARDIS isn't going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid you're stuck with us." He stroked Jack's hair gently. "Now, you're obviously exhausted. I'd like to give you a sedative, just a mild one, enough to take the edge off and let you get some sleep. Maybe, then, by the time you wake up, enough of the withdrawal symptoms will have passed that you'll be able to eat something." He felt Jack tense slightly, and he immediately guessed the reason. "You're safe here Jack, no one will hurt you. The door's shut; you've seen how strong it is. An army of Daleks couldn't get in here, let alone any of Magiot's men. You need sleep. I won't leave the room, I promise."

"No, I . . .it's just . . . I . . .can't." He weakly tried to pull away again.

"I've an idea." The Doctor reached into a pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver and then gently slid out from behind Jack. "Go get yourself comfortable in all that bedding." He pointed to the sheets, blankets and pillows that were still piled against the wall. "I'm just going to take care of something."

Jack didn't move, just curled up slightly; a tight human ball watching with a wary eye. The look of suspicion slipped into one of confusion when the Doctor shut the medical bay door, and then with a shower of sparks, zapped the lock with the sonic screwdriver. A minute later, when Jack's trembling hands were wrapped around the screwdriver, the confusion turned into an half-smile.

"No one can get in or out unless you let them, Jack." The Doctor clamped him on the shoulder. "Now what do you say you let yourself get a little more comfortable?"

"B..b.but why?" Jack asked, as he allowed himself to be led onto the pile of blankets.

"You need sleep." The Doctor pointed out. "You won't sleep unless you feel safe. So, I had to make sure you felt safe. And now you do, right? So, will you let me give you that sedative?"

Jack curled up again, his back against the wall, the screwdriver grasped tightly in his shaking hand. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip, as if gathering his courage, before giving an abrupt nod. The Doctor didn't say anything; just grinned that grin of his and placed a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder before administering the shot. And waited. Eventually, the rasping breathing evened out, the taut lines of pain on his face lessened slightly and the tremors slowed.

"Jack?" The Doctor called out quietly, but smiled when the other man showed no reaction at all. "Atta boy." He stroked Jack's hair absentmindedly. "How long's it been since you slept? Really slept like this? I imagine quite some time, between the blissfire and the pain and the . . . job . . . Well, that's all over with, you hear me? You just sleep. I'm going to clean up this mess It looks like a wild korantha beast got loose in here, doesn't it?"

Fortunately, and unfortunately, it only took a few hours to get the medical bay squared away. While it was nice to have it all straightened up, it was a problem, because once everything was cleaned up the Doctor was left with nothing to do. He paced. He emptied his pockets, sorted through what he'd found in them and then put it all back. He picked up the satchel containing Jack's things and opened it. Then immediately closed it. He ran scans on Jack. He ran scans on himself. He reorganized the medical supplies by alphabetical order, then by usage, then by planet of origin, then by size, and then randomly shoved everything back in the cabinets wherever they seemed to fit best.

Jack slept through it all. Which was good, it was what he needed. He was still sweating and shaking slightly but his withdrawal symptoms seemed to be lessening and they weren't affecting his death grip on the sonic screwdriver. The result of which was that the Doctor was stuck in the medical bay. He paced some more... and stopped directly in front of the small bundle of Jack's things. His gaze shifted from the pile to the sleeping man and back to the pile. "I shouldn't. I really shouldn't." He fingered the satchel. "You wouldn't begrudge me a little look-see, would you?" There was no response from the sleeping man. So, curiosity getting the better of him, he opened the satchel and peered inside. The wooden box appeared to have some sort of intricate carving on it. He couldn't quite make out what it was... Grabbing the box he was about to pull it out when he felt eyes on him. Turning slowly he found himself unable to meet his friend's gaze.

"You said I c..c..could trust you." The voice was flat and emotionless, without a hint of recrimination . Jack pushed himself up into a seated position, but stopped and leaned against the wall when the shaking started again. "Should'a known it was too good to be true." He tossed the sonic screwdriver to the Doctor, who caught it one-handed. "Go ahead, open the d..d..door."

"Jack, I... I'm..." He just stood there, one hand holding the screwdriver, the other still in the satchel.

"Like I told you back in the t..tavern. Jack is dead. You can't diss..appoint a dead man." He dragged himself to his feet. "The door, D..Doctor. Please."

"No."

Jack pushed himself off the wall and staggered to the Doctor, intent on grabbing his things. "Just open the d..d..door. Then you can go and I can go and w..we can forget this ever happened."

Using exaggeratedly slow movements the Doctor removed his hand from Jack's bag. "You must realize that I can't do that. That I won't do that. If you go out that door right now you'll head straight back to Magiot's and within an hour you'll be back on blissfire and back to letting yourself be treated like a piece of meat. I saw what they did to you there, Jack! I can't let you go back there! And what about Gunther and Nell? Do you think they want that for you? Can't you see how guilty they feel over what's happened to you? I'm the idiot here. Don't punish them, and don't punish yourself because I couldn't keep my hand out of the proverbial cookie jar!" He gathered up Jack's things and handed them over. "I'm arrogant and insensitive. You know that. You always used to call me on that. Stay here until you're well. Then, if you want to get away from me I won't stop you. In fact I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Any place. Any time. Just not here, not back to that." Slowly he reached out and cupped Jack's chin in his hand. "Please, I can not be the reason you go back to that life. I promise you, I will not pry into your past, I will not look at your stuff, I'll even leave the TARDIS and stay in the tavern with Nell and Gunther if you want me to . . . I'll do anything, as long as the result is you getting better. I need you to get better. Please. I can't lose you, not to this, not this way."

Jack peered into his friend's eyes. He saw the hopelessness there and the guilt. But there was something else . . . something he couldn't quite read. "Why do I mm..matter so much to you? You walked away without a second thought before, what's different now?"

"I spent my whole life running away, but when I saw you in the tavern I realized I couldn't run anymore. I had to stop and face my past, my mistakes. And my biggest mistake was leaving you behind. Leaving you the way I did. Without ever... You're my hero, Jack. A better man than I could ever hope to be and I can't believe I let you go without making you see that. Or maybe I never even realize it for myself, until today."

Jack smiled shyly, tilting his head away to hide the fact his eyes were welling up with tears.

"I was never happier than when I was with you, Jack." The Doctor pulled Jack into a tight embrace. "Please, Jack. I need you." He whispered breathlessly into Jack's ear. "Stay with me."

"I'm not ss..s...sure I can." Jack whispered back. "I guess it depends..."

"Depends on what?"

"Is that a screwdriver in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?"


	3. A Diamond in the Rough

And so Jack had made a joke, and the tension dissipated. The Doctor laughed, and hugged Jack tighter, but he couldn't help noticing the touch of sadness in Jack's voice. Or avoid seeing how the smile hadn't quite reached his eyes. Or feel the way Jack was unable to relax in his embrace. All was not forgiven, or forgotten, not yet; he could only hope it was possible that someday it would be.

"Time enough for that later, Jack my boy." He kept his tone light, trying to force a bravado he didn't feel. "First things first, how about some food?" It was obvious that Jack was still in withdrawal, trembling at the effort of standing. "Here, sit." The Doctor guided Jack into a chair, pretending not to notice the way his friend was still clinging to his belongings. "I'll be back in a jiff with something for you to eat." And then he applied the sonic screwdriver to the door, forcing it open, and practically fled from the room, desperate to give Jack a chance to get his emotions under control in private.

He returned a short time later with a tray practically groaning with food. "I wasn't sure what you'd want, or what your stomach could handle, so I brought a little bit of everything."

Jack had been dozing lightly in the chair and jumped up in surprise at the other man's entrance. "Doctor!" He spun around, his voice fading as all the color drained from his face, a result of the effort of standing so quickly.

Quickly the Doctor dropped the tray onto the counter and grabbed Jack. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have startled you." He carefully looked at the other man. Jack hadn't fainted, but only barely remained conscious. His breathing was far too rapid and shallow, his eyes glassy and unfocused and there was a sheen of sweat covering his body. "Jack?" he called gently. "It's okay, I've got you." Jack blinked several times and soon there was a flicker of recognition. "Deep breath. Come on, come back to me." The flicker deepened as Jack focused on the Doctor and a little of the color returned to his face. "You with me now, Jack?"

There was a slight, wry smile in response.

"Here, sit back down." The Doctor gently led Jack back to the chair. He crouched down so he could look his friend in the eye. Seeing the flush of embarrassment over the near faint, he wisely decided against mentioning it. "Well, ready for something to eat?

Jack just shrugged. "Not really hungry." He glanced around the room for a moment. "What tt..time is it?

"Time for you to eat." The Doctor replied, firmly. He carried the tray over to where Jack sat. "Why does it matter?"

Jack fiddled with a worn spot on his trousers by the knee. "I was just wondering." He wouldn't quite meet the Doctor's eyes. "It's probably, I mean I think I'm l..late for work."

"You gave that animal Magiot notice, remember?

The reply was so soft the Doctor had to strain to hear him. "I know, but..."

"No buts, Jack. You're not going back there. You're already through the worst of the withdrawal, so no need to ever go back and work for blissfire again. There is no reason to ever go back there."

"M..maybe I belong there."

"Jack." The Doctor gently stroked Jack's fidgeting hand, trying to ease the other man's tension. "I told you before. You are not going back there. No one will ever treat you like that again. You're staying with me till you get well and then we'll figure out what to do from there. Like I said before, I'm going to take you whereever whenever you want to go. All right?"

"It's just," he had started picking at the trousers leg again, a small hole began to appear, "I knew who I was there. What I was."

The Doctor sat back on his haunches. "And I know who you are in here." He reached out to tap Jack's chest, a feather light touch against Jack's heart.

"You haven't known me fffor a long time."

"When I found you, at the height of the London Blitz, you were a diamond in the rough. A con man trying to hide his heroic nature. Rose took to you right away. She saw it shining in you, and eventually I did as well. I know it's been years, but a diamond is still a diamond, no matter how dull it's become or hidden it might be."

"But under enough pressure even a dd..diamond will turn to dust." There was a finality to his tone. "I'm not a hero anymore, Doctor."

"Well, hero or not, you have to eat." The Doctor gently chided. "Now don't tell me you aren't hungry. You haven't had anything to eat but that bit of bread and a bowl of soup all day. Besides, I pulled together some things you probably haven't had in awhile." He held a steaming mug under Jack's nose. "Tell me, when's the last time you had a really good cup of coffee?"

The Doctor nearly laughed as he saw the light shining in Jack's eyes when he smelled the coffee, but the laughter died in his throat when he noticed the tremors Jack couldn't quite hide as he reached for the cup. He waited to release it until Jack had a firm grip, both hands wrapped securely around the mug. But Jack didn't take a sip, he just held it.

"You can drink that, you know. Unless, is the nausea back? The medication in the patch shouldn't have worn off yet, or at least I don't think it should have, maybe I got the dosage wrong?"

"No, no, the nausea's not that bad. I just..." he shrugged and leaned over the mug, slumping his shoulders and inhaling the aroma. "This is coffee. R..real coffee." There was a level of child-like wonder, tempered with surprise in his voice. "You made coffee? For me?"

"Of course I did, you dolt. I know how much you love the stuff." He reached out slowly, deliberately telegraphing his movements, and tussled Jack's hair. The Doctor allowed himself a smile when Jack barely stiffened at the touch, and didn't flinch at all. His smile deepened as he watched his friend drink the coffee. Jack seemed to be enjoying it on the level of a religious experience. "There's food too." The TARDIS medical archives had provided suggestions for foods to give to someone in withdrawal, but not knowing what the other man's favorites might be anymore he'd brought nearly everything on the list. "There's soup and crackers and bread and a bunch of different fruits, steamed conthala, some of that noodle dish you always liked, and... actually I don't remember what this is, but I'm sure you'll love it." Realizing Jack wasn't paying him the least bit of attention he trailed off. "Jack?"

The voice was barely above a whisper. "You made coffee for me."

"Well, yes." the Doctor said, uncertainly. "I already told you that."

"I know." Jack gave a slight half-smile. "It's nothing."

"It's obviously not nothing." Pulling over a chair, the Doctor perched on the edge of it, leaning so far forward he was practically in Jack's face. "What's bothering you? Tell me. Please."

"I yelled at you." Jack was absentmindedly swirling the coffee as he spoke. "I'm sorry I got so angry ww..when you were looking at my stuff. You're trying to help me and I yelled at you."

"You had every right." The Doctor cupped Jack's chin and lifted his face until blue eyes met brown. "I should not have gone into your things. I was wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. Now eat something!"

"Yes, sir." Jack said, with slightly a teasing tone, which was wonderful to hear, and began idly picking at the food on the tray. He was not really eating with any gusto or enthusiasm, but at least he was eating and that was a start.

The Doctor fidgeted, a million questions swirled in his head, but given his friend's precarious state he didn't want to risk upsetting the other man. He waited, not very patiently, until Jack lost interest in the food. "That Nell is quite the spitfire," he began, hoping he'd chosen a safe topic. "She nearly bit my head off when I first asked about you, thinking I was one of Magiot's men."

"Spitfire, yeah that's a gggood word for her. Took after her grandmother in that way. You would have liked Aldith, reminded me of Martha a lot."

Picking up the tray, still mostly covered with food, the Doctor moved it onto the counter and out of the way. "Martha? How so?"

"She had a strength to her. If there was a task that needed doing she'd just off and do it, no complaining, no dd..d..debate, just did what needed to get done."

The Doctor smiled. "That does sound like Martha. You know, Gunther mentioned his mother briefly, said she was the one who gave you the name 'Old Man.' It sounded like the whole family was quite fond of you." Gunther had also told the Doctor how Jack had been emotionally devastated when he'd come to town and never quite emerged from the shell he'd erected around himself, but the Doctor didn't think now was the right time to mention it. It would probably never be that time.

Jack ducked his head slightly. "You asked them about me?"

"It was a bit of an invasion of privacy on my part, I know. But I..."

"But you're you." Jack said, with a tone of voice that was both tolerant and slightly amused.

"Yeah, I'm me." The Doctor smiled. "Are you angry?"

"No. I guess I expected it. Would have been ss..surprised if you didn't."

"What was Gunther's father like?"

"Jonas? A big man, kind of quiet. Not as quiet as me though. We could work together in the tavern for hours and not need to say a word to each other." He saw the Doctor shaking his head and cocked an eyebrow in response. "You c..can't picture me as quiet, can you?"

"It is a bit of a stretch, Jack. You were always talking, flirting, joking around, telling stories, flirting, did I mention flirting? If it breathed, you flirted with it."

Jack sighed. "I'm not that person anymore."

"But that's like a leopard changing its spots." The Doctor finally let his frustration show. "It's who you are!"

"It's w..who I was. Given enough time a mountain will becomes a molehill. Even the brightest star eventually burns out. You, of all people, should know that." Jack began rubbing the worn spot on the knee of his trousers again, picking at the hole as it grew larger.

"You know Rose would slap you for saying that. I bet Aldith would too."

Jack looked up quickly, his momentary self-depreciation forgotten. "What?"

"When we first met you were a con man, right? As deep as a puddle with about as much substance too, or so I thought. But when it came right down to it you snatched up that bomb to save us. Oh sure you joked about it just being for Rose's t-shirt..."

"Hey, that was some shirt!"

"Yes, it was." The Doctor smiled wistfully. "My point is that you had no way of knowing I'd get you off your ship before the bomb blew, did you? You were prepared to die, you expected to die."

"Wouldn't have initiated emergency protocol four-one-seven otherwise."

"Hmm?" The Doctor asked, thrown off track and confused.

"The drink. One last drink before..." His hands spread out as if miming an explosion.

"Oh, right. Getting back to what I was saying, you are a hero Jack. You saved all those people at the railway station, taking the bomb on your ship even though you knew it was probably going to kill you."

"That was a long time ago, Doctor. Like I said, I've changed."

"No you haven't. Tell me, why did you start working for Magiot?"

Jack refused to meet the Doctor's gaze, still working the hole in the trousers. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." The Doctor prodded. "You didn't just up and decide to be a prostitute when you woke up one morning, did you Jack? And you certainly didn't feel the need to go off and experiment with blissfire to pass the time. Gunther and Nell told me what happened."

Jack pushed himself out of the chair, trying to get away. "No."

"No, what? No, that's not what happened?" The Doctor pressed forward, blocking his path to the door. "The plague didn't come and take Aldith and Jonas, people you'd come to think of as family? And Gunther wasn't left caring for his sick daughter while you tried everything you could to keep a roof over their heads?"

"Tried and failed." Jack tried to push past, to get out of the medical bay.

"You did what you had to do. You sacrificed yourself, you signed away your own happiness and life to provide for Gunther and Nell's. Only a hero would do that Jack."

"But the bb..blissfire..."

"You did what you had to do. It was a five year contract, yes? If the only way to complete it was to start to use blissfire than what are you beating yourself up for?"

"You weren't here." Jack turned away, unable to face the Doctor. "You don't know, what I did, what they did to me there."

"No, you're right. I wasn't there. And I should have been. I should never have stayed away so long, never should have let you get so far away from me. I'm sorry, Jack. I suppose you had every right to give up on me."

"What? I didn't. W...why would you... I don't understand." He stopped, confused. "Why do you assume I gave up on you?"

Jack was still standing facing away from the Doctor, leaning lightly against the examination table. The Doctor was glad his old friend wasn't looking into his eyes; he knew he couldn't hide the sadness in them as he explained, "Your key. If you'd expected me to come back into your life at some point you would have kept your TARDIS key."

"Oh. It's not like that. I didn't, I never gave... I... I lied, Doctor." Jack took a deep breath and held it, turning around, but refusing to make eye contact.

"Lied?" The Doctor asked, now completely and utterly confused himself. "About what?"

"I still have it."

"Sorry, have what? Jack, I don't quite follow."

He spoke so quietly the Doctor had to strain to hear him. "My key. My TARDIS key. I ss..still have it."

Hope and joy bubbled up within the Doctor's chest. "You do?"

"Yeah." Jack looked away shyly. "I just c..couldn't... I didn't want to let it go. To let you go. I didn't admit it before, because, well, it seemed so childish."

"Oh Jack!" He swept Jack into a tight embrace, one that Jack returned, just as fiercely and completely. The Doctor couldn't be any happier, for the first time since he laid eyes upon his old friend things felt like they were finally back to where they should be, all that had come between them was gone now.

As Jack clung to him the Doctor took a deep breath, drinking in the familiar aroma of the other man. The Doctor smiled as Jack snuggled in and placed a whispered kiss against his bare neck. Sensations and desires long buried bubbled to the surface and the Doctor found himself barely able to control himself as he slipped his hand under Jack's shirt to stroke his back. He pulled him even closer, tasting and touching, reacquainting himself with every inch, every aspect of his former lover's body, which was so achingly familiar it was like they had never spent all those years apart. Oh, how he'd missed this! But there were so many clothes in the way! In a fervor, he frustratedly tore at the collar of Jack's shirt, barely registering when it ripped and fluttered in pieces to the ground.

He pressed Jack up against him, exploring, relearning his way. From the strong shoulders down to the firm nipples, a detour to those tight abs- he needed to slip the trousers out of the way to get to them all, but the abs were tighter and tastier than ever. God, what had he been thinking staying away from Jack all these years? In one fluid movement he pushed Jack face down onto the infirmary bed behind them. Within seconds he had stripped off his own clothing and grabbed some lube. Then he climbed on the bed, his weight pinning Jack down. Need and desire overwrote everything as he nipped playfully at Jack's neck and slipped one and then two fingers into Jack, paused only long enough to see to the necessities and then, utterly lost in the moment, began to thrust, hard and sure, in the merciless manner they both used to enjoy so much.

It was only after he had come, after the haze cleared, that he realized exactly what he had done. And what Jack hadn't done. Jack hadn't called out his name, hadn't moaned, hadn't gasped in pleasure. The entire time Jack had lain completely still, his pants still pooled at his ankles; fists having grabbed the sheet so hard his knuckles had turned a ghostly white. Now, now that it was far too late, the Doctor noticed the red scratch marks he'd made on Jack's back and the finger shaped bruises that were just starting to appear on the hips, and how similar they were to the injuries he'd seen earlier. But worst of all was the tight line of the mouth and the way the other man's eyes were squeezed shut, with a single tear running down his cheek.

"Oh damn it, Jack. I am so sorry. We used to... I... I didn't think... I wasn't thinking, well not with my head anyway. Oh God... What have I... Jack? I don't know what... I mean... You know I... Oh, Jack... I'm sorry. I am so sorry. Jack?"

There was no response whatsoever from the man on the bed. The Doctor bit his lip.

"Jack?"


	4. Opening the Door

The Doctor sat on the floor staring at the door across the hall. All he had to was get up and open it. Get up and open it and enter the medical bay. Get up, open the door, enter the medical bay and face Jack. Get up, open the door, enter the medical bay and face what he did to Jack.

It had only taken one day. Less than a day actually. Less than one day to find someone so broken and beaten down by the universe that they thought there was no hope, no way out- then to show them a glimmer of hope, that light at the end of the tunnel- and then turn that glimmer into the light of an oncoming train. How could so much have gone wrong in just one day?

He'd always made fun of those tiny little human brains; he'd always believed he was so superior to them in all ways that mattered. Was he? Was he really? After what he'd done today he had to wonder.

When the TARDIS brought him here he'd dismissed it as a lark; no one in their right mind would come to this backwater dump on purpose. Only to find out that at some point in time, Jack had. Why? He still had no idea, and he certainly couldn't ask. Not now. Definitely not now. He couldn't ask anything now. He couldn't ask about the family Jack had lost, or what Jack had been doing all these years.

In fact he didn't want to ask Jack about anything, that would mean going in there. Going in there would involve facing him and he wasn't quite sure he could do that. At least by himself. He could go back to town and fetch Gunther or Nell from the tavern, they would certainly know how to deal with Jack at less than his best. But, then he'd have to admit how badly he'd screwed things up. They thought he was merely a friendly doctor, of the lowercase variety who was willing to help their friend due to altruistic motives. He hadn't told them of his history with Jack, and he'd assumed Jack hadn't wanted them to know, especially considering he'd never even told them his true name, or the name he'd been using since the London Blitz anyway.

And he wasn't sure he could, or even should, leave Jack alone in the TARDIS. If he did, there'd be the chance Jack could slip out and return to both his former line of work and the drugs. That was something the Doctor couldn't risk. Jack hadn't had a dose of blissfire in over a day and the withdrawal symptoms were to a point that they were controllable and he wasn't going to take the chance that his stupid actions would cause Jack to relapse. He rubbed his face over and over, trying to rid his mind of the image of the rumpled heap Jack had been when he first spotted him and trying not to think about what the medical scans had shown him, or the way Jack had been lying on the bed before he'd fled the room.

What had possessed him to act so irresponsibly? Why couldn't he have thought of the consequences of his actions? Damn it! One hug from Jack, one little kiss and he was foolish enough to think things were all back to normal? That it was enough to wipe away years of prostitution? Jack had told him, over and over again, that he was a changed man. Why had he refused to see it? How could he have missed it?

And how could he fix what he'd done?

Could he fix what he'd done?

Maybe he should have the TARDIS leave this planet. They could take to the time vortex. With all of time and space to choose from there had to be someone that could help Jack, do a better job than he'd done. Martha would seem like a logical choice, perhaps in her later years, when she was a well respected doctor, the kind of the medical persuasion. But there was that pesky problem of crossing timelines. She and Jack lived through that part of the twenty-first century together and there would be the risk of running into the Jack of then with the Jack of now. There was also the minor issue that neither version of Jack would want Martha to see him like this.

No. Martha wasn't an option. For so many reasons.

Really, the only option was him. He couldn't foist the problem he'd created off on anyone else. He could fix this. With new found determination he walked over to the medical bay door, ready to face what he'd find inside.

* * *

_a/n: I apologize for the delay in updating this story, thanks for sticking with it! _


	5. Consequences

**Author's note:** As it's been so long since an update I thought I should include a summary of the previous chapters: Ten discovered Jack working as a prostitute as a way to earn doses of the drug blissfire. Jack was in terrible shape, physically from the drugs and the abuse from his 'clients' and mentally from having lost many loved ones. He had withdrawn to the point that his closest friends - a family he had known for generations - didn't have a name to call him other than 'Old Man.' The Doctor promised to help Jack, brought him back to the TARDIS and saw him through the worst of the blissfire withdrawal before he misinterpreted Jack's emotional hug for something more than it was intended. Although Jack did not fight against the resulting sex, the Doctor realized that Jack hadn't wanted or enjoyed it and fled the TARDIS's medical bay in horror of what he'd done. After some soul searching the Doctor was ready to face Jack again...

* * *

"Jack?" He called out hesitantly, absolutely unsure in what he would find as he pushed the door open.

Things looked... normal. There was no sign that anything had happened. The bed had been remade. Jack had cleaned himself up. He was standing there in the center of the room, his ripped shirt bunched together in his fist and a blank look on his face. "Doctor," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "You came back."

The Doctor stood in the doorway, uncertain about entering, but either unwilling or unable to leave. "Where else would I be?"

Jack responded with a dry, empty laugh. "Well, since you got what you came for I wasn't sure you'd bother returning for anything more."

Rubbing the back of his neck, the Doctor looked up, trying to catch Jack's eye. "I came for you. Not for..." he gestured helplessly at the bed, "not for that. I hadn't intended us to, what I mean is I never planned..." In a rush, the Doctor swept into the room. "We shouldn't have done that. I should not have done that to you."

"You took what you wanted. There's nothing wrong with that; you of all people should get what you want out of life." Jack's tone was icy. He straightened, slowly and deliberately; holding himself tightly. He raised his head and squared his shoulders. "I followed you to the TARDIS like a lost little puppy, pathetic and weak. I should have assumed this was more about what you needed than what I did. But with the blissfire my mind was so confused. I ff..forgot that being with you was never easy, never without a price."

"Jack, no!" The Doctor reached out to grab the other man's shoulder, but Jack skittered back and out of his grasp.

"All those promises - getting me a new greatcoat to wear, and how you promised me a visit to the weapons factory at Villengard, and the way you talked about recreating our night in Japan - how much of that did you mean?" As he spoke Jack was moving, practically hugging the walls, but slowly inching his way toward the medical bay door. "It's okay though, really. Maybe it was for the best. The lies worked, I'm off the blissfire now."

"They weren't lies." The Doctor shook his head, how had everything gone so badly, so quickly? "I wanted you to come with me, not just to get you healed up, but to give you the life you deserve. The life I should have given you all those years ago..."

"When you ran from me? From what I'd become?" Jack shook his head sadly. "No. Nn...never mind. It doesn't matter now. Really. It doesn't." Although his voice was slightly unsteady, there was a strength behind his words that hadn't been present before. "I'm leaving now. I'll take some of those anti-nausea patches with me, and maybe one or two for pain just in case. But other than that I'll be fine. Well, enough so there's nothing for you to worry about, anyway. Gunther and Nell will let me stay with them in the tavern; I can go back to working there like I did before, well, before. Magiot will try, but I won't go back there." Jack picked up his satchel and hugged it to his chest. "I may not have much, but I am not going to let you take anything more from me."

Jack had never talked to the Doctor with that tone of voice before, impersonal and stilted, almost cold. Hearing it hurt, like a knife in the gut. "Jack, please. Don't leave. Not like this." He nervously began rubbing the back of his neck again. His eyes darted around the room before landing on the empty coffee cup. "At least let me make you some more coffee before you go. Just coffee. Nothing more. We don't even have to talk unless you want to. Please?"

"I appreciate you seeing me through the blissfire withdrawal, Doctor. But I don't want to go back to being your pet soldier - good enough for protecting your ass in battle or presenting mine in bed. I've seen enough of death, destruction and prostitution to last a lifetime." He began to laugh. "Come on, it's funny. A lifetime. My lifetime?" And then he was laughing so hard he was practically crying. Jack leaned up against the wall, needing its support as his body was racked by the laughter.

"Jack?" The Doctor slowly approached the other man. Jack's laughter continued, growing louder and more manic. It was out of control, his breathing reduced to wheezy gasps. "You're scaring me a bit here." He reached out, hesitating a bit, before cupping Jack's chin in his hand. "Jack. Please, it was funny, but not this funny. You need to try to take deeper breaths." There was a blue tinge creeping into Jack's lips and his face had turned a chalky white. With his other hand he began to stroke Jack's hair. "Breathe, Jack. Just breathe." He kept a hold of Jack's chin, staring into the desperation and panic present in Jack's eyes. It was only the Doctor's grip on his chin that had prevented Jack from sinking to the floor. "I've got you Jack, I won't let you fall," he murmured, "just breathe. Breathe for me, Jack."

He continued to run his other hand soothingly through Jack's, and eventually the uncontrolled laughter intermingled with racking sobs. As tears leaked out his eyes he began to breathe deeper. Slowly some color returned to his face as the emotional storm within him ceased. Jack ran a hand roughly over his face, erasing the evidence of tears. Once composed, Jack straightened up and slipped out from the Doctor's hold. He was still leaning against the wall, but no longer needed the Doctor's support to keep him upright.

"Now, you probably could use a little time to pull yourself together," the Doctor said, keeping his tone even. "I'm sure you want to be at your best when you see Gunther and Nell again. How about you take a minute or two while I prepare that coffee I promised you?"

Jack looked away, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on the floor. He hugged his things tightly for a moment going through some sort of internal debate. With a quick nod he replied, "Fine, coffee. But, just coffee. Then I leave."

"If that's what you want, that's fine. One freshly made coffee, coming up." The Doctor headed to the door, but paused halfway there. "Thank you for giving me this second chance, Jack."

Already on his way out, he missed the slight head shake Jack gave in response as the door swept closed.


	6. A Hard Look At Time

When the Doctor returned with the coffee things were stiff and formal between him and Jack. There was only so much small talk that the Doctor could make. He already knew how Jack took his coffee, so they couldn't talk about that, and any suggestion made about food was cut off with a quick "no thank you," which rather limited the conversational possibilities on that front as well.

In lieu of distracting himself by the conversation, the Doctor attempted to do so by studying Jack. The tremors were gone. Jack was thinner than he'd been when they'd traveled together, but all in all didn't look terribly different. The man _had _aged, but only slightly. A few gray hairs, some wrinkles. If the Doctor hadn't known better he'd have thought five or maybe ten years had passed since they'd seen each other last. But given Jack's unusual nature he knew that wasn't the case. It hadn't been that long for him, but he couldn't help but wonder how many years had really passed for Jack. "How old are you, Jack?" he finally asked, blurting out the question before he could stop himself.

Jack looked up briefly, before focusing back down on the mug between his hands. "Kind of hard to say, isn't it? I suppose it depends. Everyone looks at time differently, don't they? We talking lunar cycles of Trylos Seven? Harvest celebrations of Dendrax? Human standard years? Considering you know I don't get older, well, not really, not the way normal humans do, I can't help but wonder what you're really asking. How long has it been for me since I've seen you last? Or do you mean how long I've been here?"

If the Doctor was surprised by the flat tone Jack used, he didn't comment on it; all he said was, "Your age. Human standard years."

Carefully draining his coffee and putting down the empty mug, Jack stood up and walked over to his belongings. "Far older than you will ever be. Probably older than any Time Lord could ever hope to be, would ever want to be." After digging around amid his things for a moment Jack pulled out the small wooden box the Doctor had noticed earlier. He touched a hidden latch and a secret compartment sprung open. He palmed what fell out and then slid the compartment shut, putting the box back in his satchel. "Got this when I became a Time Agent," he began carefully, "although it's seen better days." He paused for a moment, holding it tightly within his grip before opening his hand and holding it out for the Doctor to see. "Recognize it? My vortex manipulator. The strap's long gone, the cover too, but the majority of the circuitry is still sound. And, if I'm remembering this right, it should..." Jack trailed off as he hit a few buttons, trying to find the information he wanted. "See for yourself." He tossed it to the Doctor. "Standard years since activation. Probably not entirely accurate, but should be close."

The Doctor caught the manipulator carefully, not wanting to risk breaking something that meant so much to Jack. He simply stared at the data for a moment before muttering, "This can't be right."

"Why not? Because you don't want it to be? Sorry, Doctor, things don't work that way in real life."

"But, Jack, according to this your vortex manipulator came off the assembly line more than twenty-seven thousand standard years ago. You, you can't be," he looked up seeking the truth in Jack's eyes but unwilling to accept what he found there, "That's impossible."

"And here I thought you used to believe in the impossible. I always pictured you a bit like the White Queen in _Through the Looking Glass_, believing in six impossible things before breakfast." Jack tilted his head, lost in thought for a moment. "I wonder if that makes me Alice. There are worse things than that, I suppose, and being with you was always an adventure. Although, not always in Wonderland."

The Doctor couldn't help but notice the smile that flickered on Jack's face for a brief second before reality came crushing down. "But it wasn't all bad, eh?"

"No." Jack held his hand out, motioning for the Doctor to pass the manipulator back. "Not all bad." Walking over to his things he pulled out the box, reopened the compartment, and put the manipulator away. "We did have some good times. Hell, we had some great times." Jack studied the Doctor for a moment. "I know what you want from me, Doctor. You want me to soothe your conscience. You want me to tell you I'm fine with what just happened here, and what happened all those years ago and that I want to take off in the TARDIS with you so we can explore the stars together. But I can't. Not yet anyway. I'm not ready, and be realistic, neither are you."

"But, Jack..." the Doctor began, only to trail off when Jack raised his hand.

"I agreed to stay for coffee, Doctor. And we had our coffee. Now you need to let me go. Let me walk out those doors with my head held high. It doesn't have to be goodbye for forever, but I need to move past this point, this place where I am in my life. And we've got time." Jack picked up his things and moved out of the medical bay. He paused briefly in the doorway, but didn't turn around. "Give me some breathing room. Travel about for a bit and come back for me in ten standard years' time. I might be ready then."

And with that he was gone.

The Doctor sat there, staring at the empty coffee cup in his hands, and didn't move for a very long time.


End file.
